


a little black spot

by ThatWaxLion



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Dani Powell Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Unresolved Romantic Tension, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:55:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23649580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWaxLion/pseuds/ThatWaxLion
Summary: She finds herself sitting in her car, parked outside his apartment, on the anniversary of her father’s death, contemplating to go up to his place and against all her better judgement, give up her tried and true method of coping - and just spill her guts to him.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell
Comments: 44
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is inspired by suitupbuttercup's headcanon where Dani’s father was a cop killed on duty.  
> Story is set around 1x17, before Malcolm finds out that Eve is the Girl in the Box.

There’s a little black spot on the sun today. 

Dani sighs. She lightly taps her fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song. On this day, this very specific black spot of a day, somehow, this one line becomes her mantra. When she wakes up in the morning, it pops in her head and she keeps humming it to herself. It pops in her head, along with some images from long ago that keep fading with each passing moment, year - yet somehow, on this day, these images become alive again, forceful and very vivid. 

The tiny scratches on the landline as her mother slowly put the receiver back.  
The golden rose embroidered on the back of her robe as she turned away from her and rested her hand on the wall for support.  
The scrapes of dirt on the police officer’s shoes who knocked on their door.  
And then there were the images that her mind conjured all on its own.  
The gunshot. Him falling down.  
The blood. The gunshot. Him falling down. All the blood.

Dani slightly shakes her head, as if she could will those images away. On most days, they were flickering somewhere in the back of her mind, shrunk to a comfortable size, waiting for her patiently. On some days, these images were even helpful. They became her driving force when they’ve been on a particularly gruesome case and she felt too drained to go on. The images etched in her mind, reminding her of who she was and what she set out to do. 

But on the anniversary of her father’s death, they are just unbearable. 

She tried plenty of coping mechanisms over the years. She tried to talk to her mother about it, but her mother had her own ways of dealing with her own pain and sadly, that didn’t include talking to her. She tried to talk about it with a then-boyfriend, but even though he was sympathetic, she was aware that he couldn’t fully grasp the depths of what she was going through. He never understood that – her - completely and thus could never understand her mood swings and her demons. And she never blamed him – how could she? Shared trauma brings people together. But trauma experienced only by one, that drives the other one away. Or at least, in her experience. 

So, eventually, she stopped talking about it and turned to other ways and means. Alcohol did nothing for her, if you don’t count the headaches and the shameful emptiness she felt the morning after. Drugs helped for a while, until they really didn’t.  
Eventually, she decided that method and routine will do the job. She methodically built up her walls – nothing went through, no one came through and that worked wonderfully for her. She turned to her job. She thrived at it. She was taught how to deal with perps; she was given a method, the ways and the means. And that became her religion. She had her walls built up, solid as a fortress, and she was given all the tools to navigate through it and live her life dedicated to a job that was meaningful and consumed her in the best possible way. She didn’t have time to think about her own demons when there were so many out there waiting to get caught.  
Method, routine, walls – her holy trinity. 

Then along came Malcolm Bright and the code she lived by was challenged and questioned in ways she never expected to: she has long ago decided that while her intuitions were valuable, they could only come in second after method when it comes to the job. But Bright was all about his intuitions. He trusted his own intelligence and proficiency and he relied on his bottomless well of knowledge and he had every right to. He had a brilliant mind. 

It’s not that Dani didn’t trust her own abilities; she very much did, but never had enough faith in her own twisted thinking to choose that over the methodic approach in work.  
She never thought she had the power to put her own demons into service the way Bright could. 

There was something exhilarating and downright joyful watching him putting all the seemingly mismatched pieces of a puzzle together; to find the oh-so subtle clues in a facial expression, a nervous giggle, an unconscious hand gesture, a twitch of the eye. The clues that were there out in the open, for everyone to see, yet seemingly he was the only one who could grasp them and translate their meaning. He paid attention. Always. 

As much as she was in awe of his sherlock freudian skills, more than once, they posed a threat to her rock-solid walls. She knew that when he watched her, he not only saw what she allowed him to see, but a lot more that she herself did not want to confront.  
That both unnerved her and yet, although she rarely admitted it even to herself, it made her feel…accepted. Cared for, even. 

In return, Bright never hid anything from her. For a person who could read others who tried to be unreadable, Bright wore his heart on his sleeve. He’s always let her know how much he valued her trust and her friendship and never denied anything of him from her. He’s been always honest with her, as far as she knew. When she asked, he answered.

At least, he tried - to do better, for her. After their slight fallout, he promised he will. “You’re the one I like talking to.” That very sentence, along with the sincere look in his eyes made her feel accepted, appreciated. 

But trust was a two-way street and if Dani was being honest with herself, she knew that she had to try and do better, too. She thought she was done with the talk-it-out coping mechanism years ago, after her unsuccessful attempts at it, but Bright came in the picture and she found herself drawn towards his honesty and compassion and absolute vulnerability. 

She wanted him to trust her; for him to have someone who understands what it’s like to live with demons inside his head, even though they were very different from her own and came from very different places. And she thought she delivered; she earned his trust by always being there for him. But it dawned on her that he might also want to be there for her – yet she rarely gave him anything that he couldn’t already decipher on his own. 

She hasn’t seen Bright around that much lately; they haven’t had any cases in a while that required his expertise for a longer period of time and she found that she missed his energy, his questions, that forceful drive which sucked them in too; his passion breathed life into the precinct. Into her. 

And that’s why Dani Powell finds herself sitting in her car, parked outside his apartment, on the anniversary of her father’s death, contemplating to go up to his place and against all her better judgement, give up her tried and true method of coping - and just spill her guts to him. 

For once, not making him work out and decode her expressions to learn what’s inside her head, but rather to tell him everything in her own way. 

She sighed. A little black spot indeed.

With a determined expression on her face, she finally grabs the blue folder from the passenger seat and steps out of the car, shuts the door quickly and doesn’t look back. She is just about to push the buzzer, when someone swings the door open in his building. She stands there a little awkwardly, unsure whether to ring up anyway – after all, she didn’t call him and ask whether she could drop by. Maybe she should at least…announce herself two minutes before barging in on him? 

Maybe.  
Maybe this was a bad idea after all. 

The door is about to close and without giving it a second thought, she catches it and slips inside. 

As she stands in front of his door, she’s suddenly very nervous, and she doesn’t understand why. Is it really that hard to open up for a friend? Is she afraid of letting Bright in? Will she be judged? Is she weak? She nervously runs her fingers through her curly mess of a hair, then tries to somehow tame them. She mentally rolls her eyes over her actions. This is Malcolm Bright, a friend. Her friend.

She inhales deeply and rings the door. After a couple of seconds, it flings open and Bright stands in front of her. 

Dani Powell is an excellent detective, but she is no profiler.  
However, in the split of a second, all her senses gather enough information for her to instantly determine that it was, in fact, a bad idea to come here.

The first thing she senses once the door opens are the lights: they are dimmed. Soft jazz tunes reach her ear. The temperature is warmer inside than usual, possibly due to the fact that the oven is turned on - the distinct smell of ginger and garlic give it away. And a fragrance, unfamiliar to her, is faintly lingering in the air.  
That’s when Dani realizes she has the worst possible timing.

“Dani!” Bright’s eyes grow large as he sees her. Wearing a comfortable-looking jeans and a grey long sweater rolled up to his elbows, he looks…homely. Relaxed, even. Are his cheeks slightly flushed? Dani can’t tell. He seems…at ease, yet somehow a bit startled. By her sudden arrival, she could only presume.

He smiles but it’s not his usual smile, the one that reaches his eyes – and often hers, too; Dani can tell he is nervous. 

“Are you okay? Did something happen?” His voice is concerned as he looks at her, searching her micro-expressions for clues as usual.

“Sure, nothing’s…everything’s fine. “ She says quickly, keeping her tone as light as she can muster. 

She needs a quick way out, to get away, to leave this very moment behind her as soon as humanly possible, because whatever Bright has been doing in his apartment, was clearly interrupted by her arrival. 

“I, uh, thought since we haven’t seen you around in a while, to drop you the cold case file you asked for.” She mumbles, holding out the folder for him to grab. She looks in his eyes for a split second, then glances away. Eye contact is dangerous with Malcolm Bright but avoiding it completely would raise even more questions in him, she knows that. She is desperate not to give any more access to herself than it was absolutely necessary.

“Thanks, that’s great. Thank you for bringing it to me.” Bright reaches for the file, his fingers briefly touching hers. 

She quickly lets go, feeling his eyes on her face. Like tiny laser beams, burning her skin. She hopes against hope that he doesn’t see the black cloud hovering over her very existence right now.

She clears her throat. Exiting this awkward mess of a scene needed careful preparation, if she wanted to avoid his questions, verbal and non-verbal. Because obviously, he doesn’t buy the folder story completely. Or does he? 

She clears her throat again.

“So, we haven’t seen you around lately…is everything okay? “ She risks looking into his eyes and this time, he is the one looking away. 

“Yeah, I figured, since I’m not needed, might as well please my mother and actually do some relaxing.” He smiles a half-smile. Not buying that she would buy it. She doesn’t.

Dani nods. “Just don’t get too comfortable, I’m sure we’ll have some new necrophiliac soon that will light up your days again.” She can do a half-smile too. 

He chuckles, but his eyes are flickering nervously around. For a moment there’s silence.  
She clears her throat again. Time to wrap this up.

“Okay, so see you ar…”

“Malcolm, I can’t find those glasses…” A soft voice cuts through the lazy jazz tunes and Dani sees her approaching them. Bright turns his head. Flowing blonde strands, petite curves accentuated in a casual deep burgundy dress, barefoot. Impeccable makeup. Unreadable smile. Unfamiliar fragrance.

“Oh, hey” You must be Dani! I’m Eve. Eve Blanchard.” She stretches out her hand and Dani shakes it. Bright smiles nervously and waves his hand.

“I’m sorry, Dani, this is Eve. Eve, this is Detective Dani Powell.” His cheeks are definitely flushed, Dani can tell from the side-glance she risks. She notices a slight tremble in his never-better hand.

“Nice to meet you.” Dani manages to match her tone to Eve’s smile. “I’m sorry to barge in like this, I was just dropping a file Bright requested.”

“Nonsense, great to finally meet you. Malcolm constantly talks about you guys. Either you or some monster-of-the-week perpetrator and I very much prefer hearing about you.” Her laughter reveals two sets of perfect pearl-white teeth. “Do you want to come in? We are cooking Thai. Or, at least, that’s the idea.”

He shoots her an apologetic smile and absentmindedly rans his fingers through his hair. “Yes, yes, sorry. Please come in.“ 

Dani realizes that up until this moment, Bright didn’t invite her in. Not that she would ever spend one minute longer in this scenario, yet somehow this realization makes her heart sink and she quickly brushes an invisible hair off her leather jacket, as if she could sweep away the thought with it, too.

All of a sudden, she becomes self-conscious about the stark contrasts between her and Eve. Dark, wild curls. Long, flowing blonde strands. Her worn leather jacket. Her burgundy dress. Her favorite comfortable boots that are excellent for running when necessary; her being barefoot, not running anywhere.

A wave of humiliation washes over her and she actually welcomes the physical effect of it: a sudden warmth spreads through her body, creeps in her legs, her chest, her face. It engulfs her like a warm blanket. It even calms her.  
She looks at Eve and smiles politely.

“Thanks, but I still have some paperwork to finish. It was nice to meet you though. See you around, Bright.” She adds, lowering her tone, looking at him. 

For a brief moment, their eyes meet and his gaze sends a jolt right through her heart. She sees how desperately he searches her expression for clues. Clues to why she was really there. 

But she was already back in her fortress, safe and almost sound.  
She walks down the stairs, out of the building, to her car, still feeling the tiny laser pinpricks on her skin. 

A little black spot, indeed.


	2. chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to AngelaFaye11 for beta reading, and for getting through my mess of tenses. Tenses hate me. I suck at them.  
> Thought I should warn you right at the top.  
> And, of course, suitupbuttercup for the awesome headcanon!

Dani practically storms through the entrance of the precinct, almost spilling out her second coffee she’s had since waking up merely 50 minutes ago.

_She mentally kicks herself in the butt when she sees her alarm go off, registering it only after about nine snoozed attempts._

_For someone who badly wanted the day to end, she sure finds a way to be up until the wee hours of morning, forcing the dullest of coping mechanisms on herself and writing up long overdue case reports. All because she wants to shut out the unwanted images and unwelcome thoughts. The struggle is very real, and her body finally wins the battle around 3:30 am, leaving her on the couch that was cozily padded with papers, post-it notes and open folders. Some of which sticks to her face when she springs up panicked at 7:20, realizing she will quite surely be late for her morning brief._

She hurries past her desk, slams down three folders and picks up one. Before entering the conference room, she slows down her pace and quickly smooths over her olive-green blouse, puts two curly strands back in their place. She opens the door quietly and slips in, hoping that olive-green does, in fact, work as camouflage color against the dark-greyish wall of the room.

“…late twenties. Victim was found in her kitchen…”

Judging by the three pairs of eyes that are staring at her, it really doesn’t.

She sits on the nearest chair, successfully avoiding JT’s glare but her eyes collide with Bright’s who sits across her and looks at her, waiting to make eye contact. She slightly nods in greeting, then sinks back in her chair. She can feel Gil’s narrowing eyes on her as he clears his throat.

“ Powell, I assume your car broke down while you tried to flee from the hoard of zombies that survived a storm of the century that caused a blackout in all of New York City that made it impossible to charge your phone so your alarm didn’t go off.” He deadpans and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Something like that, sir.” She murmurs, looking down with a newly found fascination for the manila folder in front of her.

Gil doesn’t push the subject and Dani quietly listens to the rest of the briefing that is occasionally interrupted by Bright’s questions, followed by JT’s snarky comments. Morning briefings are rarely appeasing, to say the least, but she finds that today, it has strangely soothing effect on her, clearing her mind as she focuses on the case in front of her without any unwanted images intruding her brain.

It’s a new day, after all. A day like all other days, without any special significance to it.

The briefing’s over, JT is already on his phone running background checks. Dani sighs. Skimming through every possible contact person and identifying witnesses will take the better part of her day. Not that she had any other plans.

Her gaze flickers to Bright, who is immersed in his file, his delicate fingers absentmindedly tapping on one of the photos. Dani can tell he is far away, trying to piece together the information, find something that would reveal anything about the M.O.

She gathers her files and heads to the door to get her much-needed third cup of coffee, when Gil’s voice stops her.

“Powell, you alright?” He asks, lowering his voice and looking at Dani with slight concern in his eyes. Dani tenses, as she sees from the corner of her eye Bright’s head jerking up and looking towards their direction. She smiles tightly and nods, trying to give more emphasis to her words.

“Sure boss. Sorry for being late.” She is determined to get out there as soon as possible, before Bright starts to piece it all together.

Gil nods. There is a brief pause, as the older man looks at her, lowering his voice.

“When’s the anniversary?“

_Damn Gil._

She should’ve known that he knew and that he kept track of things like this. It’s what made him a great Lieutenant and a mentor. But right now, it makes Dani increasingly uncomfortable as she feels Bright’s gaze on them. She could tell he was fully alert as he was sitting up straight and his tapping stopped. And she knows that whatever hope she had that he had bought the cold case file story yesterday, was fading quickly.

“It…uh, it was yesterday, sir.” Dani mumbles quietly, hoping Bright wouldn’t hear it.

“You okay kid?” His gentle tone tenses her.

“Sure. I’m going to round up the witnesses now if that’s okay with you.” She glances down and taps the folder in her hands impatiently. She just needs that third coffee real bad.

Gil must read her body language, because he slowly nods and doesn’t push the subject.

“Okay. Call me if anything comes up.”

Dani nods and pushes the door, letting out a deep sigh. She nearly manages to get to her desk when a hand gently touches her elbow.

_Of course._

As she turns around, Bright immediately retrieves his hand and steps ever so slightly back, as if he sensed that she needs space. He clears his throat.

“I’m sorry. For yesterday. I wish I…”

She quickly interrupts him because she knows exactly where the conversation is heading and more than anything, she wants to avoid the sad beaten puppy role she thought was designated to her.

She’s dreaded this conversation because she knows that Bright would be sorry, that he’d wanted to be there for her and who is she kidding? _Of course_ he knows that the fact that she reached out to him is something new for her; that it means she actually needed him.

She just can’t deal with his sympathy at her failed attempt – her walls took such an awful lot of work and time to build up and even if she risked sneaking through them once, it doesn’t mean she is ready to do it again.

“No, Bright. It’s okay. I mean, I should’ve called first. I’m sorry for crashing your…free time.” Dani manages a reassuring smile, briefly looking in his eyes, then back to scratches on her black leather boots, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She feels his gaze on her and knows that he can read her body language perfectly, which screams Drop.The.Subject.

He slightly leans in, his voice is soft. “You were not okay and you wanted to talk to me and I wasn’t there for you and I’m deeply sorry for that. “

 _Of course_ he wasn’t going to let it slide.

She lets out a soft sigh and looks in his blue eyes, so clear she can practically read everything from them. Right now, she sees compassion and empathy and… weirdly, sadness. This somehow makes her throat tighten up. She swallows hard.

“You shouldn’t be. I mean, you didn’t… know. And even if… “ She sighs in frustration, searching for the right words that would reassure him and maybe herself, too. “…even if you knew, I should’ve called. But I’m fine now, I really am.” She looks at him and smiles tightly. “So…please don’t be sorry. It’s really not a big deal.” She hopes she can put an end to this conversation before she starts feeling things she really can’t deal with now. She glances sideways, then back at him, with a silent plea in her eyes. Bright slightly nods but she notices that the strange sadness she registered in his eyes hasn’t vanished completely.

“I hope you know you can call me anytime and if you want to talk, I’d be more than honored to listen. Please know that.” He steps closer and locks eyes with her and is not willing to let go until he makes sure Dani understands.

_Anytime. Right._

She nods and smiles reassuringly. “Thanks Bright.” She clears her throat and takes a small step back. “Right now, I really need to talk to Jenny Stone’s fiancé. And you need to see Edrisa about the body.”

He bites down on his lower lip and nods, accepting the finality of the conversation. He looks at her once again, as if he wanted to say something, but then slightly shakes his head and smiles at her.

“Call me, if…well, if anything.” He adds sheepishly.

Dani nods and gives him a warm smile, which he gladly reciprocates. She watches him turn hesitatingly on his heels and before he is out of hearing range, she says in a small voice.

“Thanks.”

She can’t see, but the way he slows down for a moment and then picks up his pace, with steps that are a little more bouncy this time, she’s sure he’s smiling.

\---------------

She opens the door to her apartment, immediately kicks off her boots and slides out of her jacket, which lands on the floor. Normally, she would pick it up and put in its rightful place, but today, she’s just glad she can shed another layer off her and leaves it right there.

She is surprised by the overwhelming relief she feels while stretching her muscles, the tension leaving her body. It’s been a long day and not particularly because of the case – it seemed pretty straightforward, without any of those twists that would ‘light up Bright’s day again.’ But throughout the day she feels the stolen looks of these three overprotective men in her life and acting like she was fine, which, she objectively speaking _was_ , exhausts her. Keeping her body language in check. Keeping her tone in check. Her workflow in check. Not to show that their bothered looks bothered _her_.

It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate their concern, because she does _,_ and it means the world to her. It’s just that she hates being singled out emotionally; she feels uneasy about the attention. People have it a lot worse than her; a truth that glares them in the face almost every single day in their field of work.

She’s fought hard never to be seen as emotional at her workplace – a ‘privilege’ that comes attached to her sex apparently. And she dislikes it, no, it downright annoys her when people, her trusted colleagues-turned-family expect her to be emotional in front of them.

But she was home and alone, at last.

She walks in her bathroom to look for her sweatpants and plain white T-shirt to change, craving to shed another layer off.

She wishes she could just as easily cast off the sound of his voice, too, from their morning talk. But his soft voice has stirred something unwelcome inside her; she feels the same absurd, irrational feeling she felt the previous day when she gathered all her courage and went to him just to find him with someone, who, at first glance, could only be described as the total opposite of her.

Betrayal.

God, she is so pissed at herself. No one betrayed her. Especially not Bright. He had no idea she was coming. What, did she expect that just because she finally decided to confide in him, he would roll out the red carpet and eagerly await the moment she finally arrives at his doorstep, gracing his evening with her ever-so-entertaining presence? Of course not.

Except, yes, that’s exactly what she wanted, anticipated even. And it was a slap in the face to find out that Bright might have other things, or burgundy dresses, to keep him busy.

She slams the door on her bathroom cabinet a little too hard after grabbing the aspirin from the shelf.

Damn Bright. Damn him for caring so much and damn him for not caring as much.

Just as she swallows the pill and gulps down a tall glass of water, her buzzer rings. Startled by the sound, the glass nearly slips out of her grip. Her heart skips a beat as she pushes the speaker. She didn’t expect anyone. She rarely does.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Gil. Get down here, we gotta go.”

 _Gil?_ So not a straightforward case after all. But her boss rarely, if ever, picked her up on route to a crime scene. Something was definitely off and she had an uneasy feeling in her gut.

“On my way. “ She replies briskly. She yanks her high waisted jeans back but decides that wherever this new turn of events lead them, the plain white shirt should suffice. She grabs her jacket from the floor, swings it over her arms, gulps down the remaining water from the glass and is already out of her apartment, running down the steps.

Gil is parked just outside her apartment building, his elbow out the window, his fingers patiently tapping the steering wheel. He nods when he sees her and starts the engine.

“What’s going on? New crime scene? “Dani asks as she slumps down in the passenger’s seat, welcoming almost eagerly the new distraction from her bland evening.

“Depends on what your definition of crime scene is.” Gil sighs, turning left on the next corner. Dani stares at him questioningly, but the Lieutenant keeps his eyes focused on the road.

\---

By the time they reach their destination, Dani’s frustration is mounting, as Gil refuses to answer any of her questions directly. _What the hell?_ She lets out an irked sigh.

“You know if this is some weird birthday surprise, you’re either two months early or ten months late.” She cracks a joke dryly, not expecting a straightforward response. But then Gil rolls into the parking lot of…

“Flushing Lanes?” She asks quizzically, getting out of the car.

Gil glares at her. “I don’t do surprise birthday parties, kid.” 

A chuckle escapes Dani’s lips. That, she believed a hundred percent.

She can’t help but feel a familiar tingling excitement as they walk through the entrance of the bowling alley, though she’s mentally preparing herself that she just might walk into the aftermath scene of some gruesome blood bath. Strangely enough, she hasn’t noticed any signs of authorities circling the place just yet.

Inside the alley, she still doesn’t detect any signs of authorities; no body, no tapes, no unwelcome or downright disgusting sights and smells…except those expected in a busy New York bowling alley.

As she turns to the bar area, she stops short. No crime scene, yet here they all were: JT, just passing a drink to Tally, Edrisa, engulfed in a lively discussion with Bright, and, right behind her, Gil. As Bright notices her, he immediately waves and starts walking briskly towards them.

“I’m not sure if this is the place, but it is one of the oldest bowling alleys in New York, so I took my chance.”

He smiles directly at her and then it hits her.

_He remembered._

She tries to swallow but her throat feels strangely tight. She opens her mouth to say something, but JT, Edrisa and Tally are already approaching them too.

“Just so you know, I don’t care that the reason Bright dragged our asses down here is you, I’m still going to kick your ass at this.” JT points a finger at her, but his voice has a warm, brotherly teasing undertone. Dani rolls her eyes and slightly bumps her fist in his chest.

“Oh, you will go down, my friend.”

“This is all so exciting, I’ve never been to a bowling alley before!” Edrisa chirps excitedly. Dani laughs. “I actually believe that.” She smiles warmly at her and greets Tally too.

“Just for the record, this was all Bright’s idea.” Gil says in a mock-tired voice but smiles good naturedly. “What can I get you Powell?”

“Umm…a club soda’s fine, thanks.” Dani says, still a bit baffled.

This is not NYPD Major Crimes Unit’s finest. This is straight-out Brady Bunch. Though less disturbing perhaps.

Gil nods and heads off to the bar, Edrisa, Tally and JT are already walking towards the last lane, reserved for the team, leaving Dani and Bright alone.

“You remembered.” She says sheepishly.

_They’ve barely known each other back then, have only worked on two or three cases together maybe. It is one of those endless and endlessly dull late night stakeouts; they are discussing the suspect’s strict weekend routine. She casually mentions that she, too, was raised on quite the draconian schedule and that Saturday afternoons belonged to her and his dad, who taught her bowling._

_The subject never comes up again; it is mentioned in a fleeting moment, a sideway note dropped to fill out the long, uneventful moments of the stakeout. But this fragment of her past slips out with such ease that takes her by surprise. Because those Saturdays meant the world to her and she keeps those memories dear to her heart and as such, never really talks about them to anyone. She keeps them safe behind her walls, but for some reason, she finds it so easy to share it with Bright and this catches her off guard. After all, they’ve practically just started to get used to each other and starting to bond as friends._

_She never mentions it to him again._

_And yet: he remembers, filing away this fragment of her personal life, keeping it safe in his memories._

She swallows hard because the sudden rush of emotions and memories make her throat tighten. So, she only looks at him and smiles, her first genuine smile in days that finally reach her eyes, too.

His smile mirrors hers, but his voice is unsure. “You were ready to talk and I messed up the chance - ”

Dani opens her mouth to disagree, but Bright waves his hand dismissively “I hate seeing you sad.“ His tone softens as he lowers it. “And I wanted to do something that I thought might honor your dad and make you happy.”

He glances down, unsure what response to expect. She reaches out and lightly touches the hem of his shirt, because she wants him to look into her eyes.

“This” She waves her hand around “…is the nicest thing Bright.” Her soft tone is matching his.

As Bright looks up, she can see a hint of relief and genuine joy in his eyes.

“Do you even know how to bowl?” Her eyes narrow teasingly. 

Bright’s eyes grow large.

“Well, technically speaking, I don’t, but I did my research today.” She looks at him with a raised eyebrow as they start walking towards the approach area to the rest of the team. 

“I know that the ideal bowling ball should weigh 10 percent of your body weight and its ideal speed is 16 miles per hour” He gets into the swing of explaining it, bowling being the subject of his newest case. “Did you know that King Henry III banned bowling from the country because it was a distraction from archery practice for the soldiers? Fascinating!” he explains, his childlike excitement lighting up his face – and hers, too.

“And did you know that four times out of five, deadly accidents at a bowling alley are caused by a faulty pinsetter?” Edrisa chips in excitedly. Dani rolls her eyes. “Let me guess: you did your research too?”

“Edrisa, do you even know what a pinsetter is?” Gil crosses his arms over his chest and looks amused at the woman half his size.

“Well, I do _now_ , ever since I learned it could kill me!” She adds dramatically.

JT groans. “I bet that one time out of five was death caused by strangulation because somebody just had enough of the jabber and wanted to play already.”

“Oh JT, you will regret the day you were born. Because your ass will be kicked by a girl tonight.” Dani smirks.

“Well, technically, there’s only a 50 % chance of his ass getting kicked by a girl tonight”. Bright’s comment earns him a slap on his arm.

Eventually, they pick out the teams, with Gil, Dani and Tally winning three out of four games, earning death glares from JT; Edrisa nearly slips on the lane while rolling the ball, but thankfully, Bright manages to catch her in a very gentleman-like manner which results in the petite medical examiner losing all ability to fully concentrate on the game, giving Dani’s team the not-at-all needed advance to annihilate the opposing party.

After a couple of hours, they start registering the poignant glances from the alley employees and realize that they were the only ones left playing. Eventually, they take the hint and decide to call it a night. JT and Tally offer a ride to Edrisa, and since Gil had an urgent call back to the precinct, Dani ends up sitting in Bright’s passenger seat as they roll out of the parking lot.

The ride is short, too short even to dissect all the events that occurred; Dani finds herself laughing so much her sides start to hurt as Bright, in his usual fashion, dissects everyone’s playing style and correlates them to their personalities, nailing it to a tee. 

She hasn’t had this much fun since a long time.

They eventually reach her apartment building and Bright parks down the car. Dani’s cheeks are still flushed from laughter, but slowly, she comes down from the high. She glances up at her apartment.

It’s time to call it a night. 

She looks down at her hands and clears her throat.

“Thanks again. This was…really something.” She snickers as she looks at Bright.

Somehow getting out of his car seems like a very unattractive idea to her, but she knows that eventually, she has to. Her smile falters.

“I’m glad. You weren’t joking – you single-handedly destroyed our team.” Bright says cheerfully, not minding it a bit.

“Yeah, well, I learned from the best.” Her gaze wanders out the window. She can feel Bright’s eyes on her profile, but this time, it doesn’t bother her. She rests her head on the seat. For a while, they both remain silent. Bright doesn’t push the subject, just patiently leans back, occasionally glancing at her, listening quietly.

“Every Saturday, for as long as I can remember” She starts speaking softly, “dad took me to Shell Lanes to play. Every Saturday, for two hours, I had him… exclusively for myself. And he treated me like a real, grown-up pro player, you know? Like his equal. He taught me how to do the perfect cherry pick, what pin-action meant, what the best strike shot was. This was our thing. Our sacred ritual that belonged only to us.”

She trails off, lost in her memories. Then glances to Bright, who gently nods in understanding. Dani looks up at her apartment again, her heart sinking just the tiniest bit. She hears Bright clearing his throat.

“I know most people don’t exactly operate on the same sleeping schedule as I do”

Dani gently rolls her eyes at the understatement “But I’d love to have a tea about now. If you’re not tired, that is.” He adds, immediately offering her a free pass.

Dani appreciates the gesture, almost even more than the tea offer itself, because four times out of five, she would use the free pass. But for once, she decides to listen to every screaming molecule in her brain – and heart.

“Earl Grey sounds good?” She asks casually, glancing briefly at him. “That’s all I can offer I’m afraid.”

The corner of his lips tilt up. “Sounds perfect.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've stuck with this story so far, please know that I appreciate you taking the time to read this! Any comments, thoughts would make my day. I appreciate them a lot. A LOT.


	3. chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AngelaFaye11 was kind enough to beta read it, and she rocks. You know who else rocks? Suitupbuttercup, for providing this awesome headcanon that I shamelessly exploited in this fic.  
> I still don't feel English tenses, and they still hate me I think. You've been warned.

As Dani opens the door to her apartment, she silently thanks herself for her compulsive cleaning the day before, which was another side result of her failed attempt to visit Bright. She knows as she heads to the kitchen, flinging her jacket this time over one of the chairs, that Bright is scanning her apartment, taking in everything that he sees and carefully filing away the information.

Normally, it would bother her, but tonight, she finds herself strangely at ease with the notion of him decoding every part of her extended self that is out there, visible for him. Because she knows that profiling is just in his nature and moreover, she trusts him. To not use anything he sees against her somehow.

She pours water in the kettle, then heads to the bathroom to freshen up. “I’ll be back in a second, just watch the kettle please.” Bright nods but doesn’t turn his head from the framed photos on her wall.

She closes the bathroom door behind her and glances in the mirror of the small cabinet. Every day, she sees more of her father in herself. The way her brows furrowed. The way she scrunches her nose sometimes. The way she holds her chin up when someone or something pisses her off. He’s all there, like delicate traces of a ghost, nested in her gestures, her face, her mind.

And then it hits her full force – she misses him so, so much, it pains her. 

The feeling of loss suddenly and unexpectedly overwhelms her; she was so preoccupied in the last few days with how her pain is going to be perceived once she shares it with someone, that somehow the pain itself was pushed in the background. Now it overcomes her, encompasses her and hits her in the gut. Tears burn her eyes, but she desperately tries to keep them from falling; with Bright in the living room, the occasion being far from ideal for this, to say the least.

But as the sobs threaten to burst out, she finally succumbs and slowly, one by one, the tears drop in the sink. She takes slow, ragged breaths, to control the sobbing - she had learned how to do that quickly after her father’s death. Not wanting to further burden her mom, she learned how to weep silently. Holding it in wasn’t ideal because it would literally burst out in a hysterical bawl, so loud it would draw her mother’s attention. But slow breaths give the sobs a narrow and more-or-less silent path to escape.

Dani desperately tries to calm herself, because she knows she has very little time before Bright will get suspicious.

But even though she manages to tone it down, the sobs shake her so violently she has to sink down on the floor.

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

She welcomes the soothing coolness of the floor tiles beneath her and she leans back on the bathtub for support, drawing her knees up. She buries her head and let the tears fall freely. 

A soft knock, then a gentle click of the doorknob.

She slightly raises her head and from the corner of her eye she sees Bright’s feet as they silently approach her; for once, she’s thankful for her curly mane, functioning as a thick curtain, hiding her face.

He quietly slides down right next to her, their arms and legs touching. She doesn’t look up. His hand hesitatingly reaches for her curls and gently pushes them out of her face, his fingers brushing over her heated, wet cheeks. He lightly strokes the side of her face, his thumb lingering over a tear just under her eyes. She slightly shivers from his touch, the sensation physically impacting her more than she expected. Dani wants to look at him, she really does, but she can’t.

“Sorry.” Her breath still hissed from the sobs.

“Don’t.” He keeps stroking her hair, which has a surprisingly calming effect on her.

“You don’t have to talk, and you definitely don’t have to be sorry.” He murmurs in a low, gentle voice.

With each passing moment, and with each stroke, Dani feels the knot in her stomach slowly dissolving, the painful clench in her throat easing. She starts regaining control over her body.

“It’s funny how…” Her voice is hoarse as she stumbles over words. “How my actual memories of learning about his death are kinda fading…whenever I recall them, they’re like…a scene from a movie I’ve seen a long time ago. I mean, I know it happened, I know I experienced it, but somehow, they feel…distant. But the images that I’ve made up…how I pictured his death…” She hesitates to continue.

Bright removes his fingers from her hair and rests them on her hand that is still gripping her knees. “they never fade and feel more real to me than anything I actually experienced. And they’re not…pretty.” She lets out a ragged sigh.

“Memory and imagery rely on common networks.” Bright hums quietly as his fingers curl around hers. “Many clinical investigations of naturally occurring imagery have not distinguished images based on fantasy from visual autobiographical memories. But from what I gather, however vivid these images are, you don’t experience these as occurring in the present.”

Dani blinks at him. “Meaning?”

“Meaning thankfully, you don’t experience flashbacks. To put it simply-” He squeezes her hand “You’re not a freak like I am, so don’t worry.”

A short, appreciative laugh escapes her chest. “That’s very reassuring, thank you.” 

She likes listening to his scientific reasonings, calming her like a lullaby. “Please elaborate.” She gently teases, curling her fingers around his.

“We almost all have enhanced consolidation of negative images under stress” He explains softly “you are more prone to recall these, especially when you experience trigger waves in your mourning process. These are accompanied by heightened emotions, can occur at any time, even years later, triggered by an important date maybe. And this is normal. Trigger waves are normal and are not a sign that they- or you - are getting worse.” He pauses.

“So…there’s nothing I can do about them? They just come and go as they please?” Her voice is small.

“There are actually things you can do about them." He says, carefully choosing his words. “Bereaved individuals should be able to tell their story over and over”

He doesn’t stop brushing her fingers. “And – this will thankfully be easy for you - express their thoughts and feelings repeatedly.”

His gentle teasing warms her heart, as his caressing motions warm her cold fingers. Another wave of silence falls over them, comfortably engulfing them in the little space they occupy on the floor.

As she searches her mind where to begin, her body becomes increasingly aware of their proximity. It’s not like they haven’t been physically close before; they’ve stood hovering over each other many times while at a crime scene; there’s the occasional shoulder bump, or his hand on the small of her back, or a reassuring squeeze of the arm. Their touch never lingers though. But now she is acutely aware of his arm and legs touching hers; his fingers caressing her hand. He feels the reassuring warmth of his body and senses his fragrance, a mixture of expensive cologne and a scent that’s uniquely Bright’s.

It calms her. 

“My dad used to call me Doty sometimes.” She starts quietly, her free fingers tracing the rims of a floor tile. “After Doty McCutcheon, who defeated the first ABC champion Jimmy Smith. Whenever he called me Doty, I knew he was proud of me; that I did something good.”

And so she begins telling him anecdotes, mundane fragments of her past, about her dad and herself. Without any particular order or pattern to follow, she tells these as her mind stumbles upon them. As she goes on, warm images from her past flash in front of her, gradually paling the disturbing ones she usually recalls. 

The more she talks, the lighter her heart feels.

Bright just sits next to her, not inching away, listening with the same intensity and focus he reserves for their cases. He takes in every word, quietly processing every bit of information she shares with him, but without any of his usual animated gestures and excessive energy accompanying it; he is surprisingly calm, his shaky hand resting ever so still on hers. She rarely, if ever, experienced him this serene.

She has no idea how long they’ve been sitting in the same spot, but when she feels her knees pop as she slightly shifts, she realizes that it’s probably been a while. Also, a faint feeling of guilt settles in her stomach. The act of confiding in her friend is, sure, innocent enough, but the fact that she is keenly aware of his skin on hers makes her…wonder.

“Sorry about your tea. I guess it won’t burn your lips now.” She glances at him with a half-smile.

Bright chuckles. “That’s a safe assumption.”

He stands up, stretches out his hand. “Not to sound too materialistic, but I do want my midnight Earl Grey, if your offer still stands.” Dani accepts it and he pulls her up, the motion sending a sudden jolt of pain in her legs. They were definitely sitting there for a while.

She prepares the tea and sits down next to him on the couch, offering him a mug. They both blow on the liquid to cool it slightly, enjoying the fragrance of the steam. She glances at him.

“Eve seems nice.” She tries to keep her tone casual. Bright lifts his head, seemingly caught off-guard by her non-question. He slowly nods.

“She is, yes.” He bites down on his lower lip. “I’m sorry for not telling you about her earlier, I…” he sighs.

“Well, technically, you didn’t tell me about her later, either. I busted you, remember?” She can’t let him off the hook that easily, but hopes he hears the light teasing in her tone.

He smiles sheepishly and hums in agreement.

She clears her throat.

“Are you…good?” She knows how stupid the question sounds but hopes Bright bites on it, because she won’t and can’t push it any further.

Bright taps his fingers on his mug. “Yeah, I guess I am. I mean…it’s…” He stumbles upon his words, an uncharacteristic trait that makes Dani wonder. “It’s…she’s..easy. I mean, not like that” He hurriedly adds, hearing Dani chuckle. “What I mean is…when I’m with her, it’s easy. We do things normal couples do, I guess. It’s effortless. She’s not interested in my father. She rarely asks any questions about my past, which, I admit, is weird, given the fact that I nearly stabbed her once” He pauses and drinks from his mug. “But at the same time, it makes me feel like…like I don’t have to be… completely myself around her. “

“And that’s…a good thing?“ She asks cautiously, tiptoeing around possible land mines.

He stares in his mug. “She treats me like this other side of me wouldn’t exist. Like I’m not someone with severe PTSD. Or someone who’s dad is a serial killer. And sometimes, it just feels good to not have that baggage with me. All the time. To see myself through her eyes. As a normal person.” His voice goes quiet and for a long moment, there’s silence. Dani softly speaks up.

“But you _are_ someone who has severe PTSD. And your dad _is_ a serial killer.”

Bright’s head snaps up and he stares at her.

“They don’t define you, but they’re also part of who you are. And all your baggage… it doesn’t make you a freak, it makes you complex. Makes you human. If anything, your baggage is a testimony of your strength.” She pauses, looking directly in his eyes. “I wouldn’t want to know any other Bright than the one I learned to know.”

She lowers her lips to her mug. She is surprised how easily the words slipped out of her mouth, but now she feels the familiar feeling of exposing too much of herself.

Bright looks at her, a mixture of emotions clouds his features that Dani can’t decipher. He eventually lowers his gaze and smiles softly.

“I like that you call me Bright.” He says quietly, his gaze fixed on his mug. “I know it’s just a coworker thing to use the surname, but to me…. this name means everything.” He hesitates, as if he wanted to add something, but then he bites down on his lower lip. 

Dani slowly nods, his vulnerability moving something deep inside her. She has to fight the sudden urge to cup his face in her hands and tell him how incredibly strong, brilliant and loveable man she thinks he really is.

“That’s who you are to me and who you’ll always be.” She simply says instead.

His smile is filled with unspoken gratitude that warms Dani’s heart. She sips from her mug but finds it empty. Bright takes it from her.

“Refill?” 

“Just water for me.”

Her gaze follows him as he’s finding his way around her kitchen, quietly searching for a glass and finding the one she hurriedly put down hours earlier, after Gil’s sudden call. He rinses it in the sink, then pours water in it and refills the kettle.

She feels at peace.

The day is over.

That little black spot seems to fade with each passing moment.

She closes her eyes for a second.

Her eyes flutter open as she feels her weight being lifted. She sees the small black button on Bright’s crisp shirt, feels its texture on the side of her face, and she closes her eyes again. She’s barely awake, and faintly registers his light stubble as it subtly brushes on her forehead. Her arms instinctively link behind his neck as she’s drawn towards the warmth of his body and scent. It almost lulls her to sleep again, but as she’s being gently lowered on her bed, she immediately senses the loss of his warmth. She opens her eyes and sees Bright as he reaches for the cover and pulls it over her.

“You could’ve just let me sleep on the couch you know.” She murmurs softly. He squats down next to her, his face leveling hers.

“Well I figured since you overslept this morning and cracked your neck like three times during today’s briefing that you didn’t sleep well. And from what I’ve gathered, you usually sleep great, so I assume that yesterday there was a difference in circumstances and you probably slept on the couch. Which means that this couch must equal no good night’s sleep. Hence, I carried you to bed.”

She rolls her eyes and looks at him. Bright smiles and absentmindedly puts back a stray curl of hers in place, brushing his finger over it, much like he did a couple of hours ago, on her bathroom floor. Her eyes find his, and this time, she holds his gaze.

Her senses are acutely aware of his proximity. His scent. His breath. Her mouth runs dry all of sudden. She licks her lips, a move that doesn’t go unnoticed by him. His gaze flickers down and as his eyes finds their way back to hers, something shifts.

Something stirs in the back of Dani’s mind, signaling some boundaries that they may or may not be overstepping this very moment. But she cannot break their contact. Neither of them can. He swallows hard. 

_Stay._ Her silent plea is carried through her gaze as she stares in his eyes, a couple of shades darker than before.

His lower lip trembles.

“I can’t.”

It’s barely above a whisper, but she hears it, or rather, senses it. He gently pulls back his fingers from her hair but cannot tear his gaze from hers.

 _Please understand._ His eyes search hers. She reaches out her hand from under the blanket and tenderly brushes her fingers over his jawline. He cups them with his own, then hesitatingly releases it as he rises from his knees.

“Goodnight Dani.” He whispers, almost to himself, and turns around; his expression is unreadable to her.

“Night Bright.” 

She sighs and closes her eyes as she hears the soft click of her apartment door being shut.

\------

The chilly night breeze bites his flushed face as he steps out of her apartment building, but he actually welcomes its cooling effect. He absentmindedly walks towards his car and once he’s behind the wheel, he lets out a long breath.

The dilated pupils of those beautiful, dark eyes.

Her quivering lips.

Her low voice.

Her curls.

Her scent that on any given day sets his pulse racing, now practically leaves him dizzy with desire.

He knows his physical reactions and responses to her are normal and nothing out of the ordinary. He is very much attracted to her, that much he’s known since day one. It would’ve been pointless lying to himself about it, but since it could all be explained with the help of psychology, behavioral science and good old biology, he was able to rationalize it and therefore he learned how to live with the unavoidable.

That fact that he quite early on started to care deeply for her, was, unfortunately, a whole different issue. That was harder to come to terms with. But, more than anything, they both needed someone whom they could trust unconditionally. And he was determined to be that person for her.

And then there’s Eve. _Eve! Jesus_.

He sighs and rubs his temple. He realizes he hasn’t looked at his phone since they arrived at the bowling alley, almost 6 hours ago. He fishes it out from his coat pocket and frowns.

7 missed calls. Two from Eve, five from his mother and one voicemail from Ainsley.

He taps the screen and puts it to his ear.

His sister’s voice sends chills down his spine.

“Call me back. We need to talk about Eve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it. The fact that you've read it till the end means it was worth writing it - thanks for your time!  
> And if you have anything, anything to say about this, I'd love to read it. Comments make my day. You should see how my face lights up when it happens!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing fan fiction, but other than that, I won't make any other excuses - if it sucks, I need to know!  
> All thoughts and comments are very much appreciated and very much needed. Thanks for reading! :)


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